, knowing what a dastard I must deem him?

The splendid Filippo of Santafior had risen to his feet, and was waving
a white, bejewelled hand in an imperious demand for silence. When at
last it came he spoke, his voice silvery and his accents mincing.

"Lord of Pesaro; I demand a boon. He who for years has suffered the
ignominy of the motley is at last revealed to us as a poet of such
magnitude of soul and richness of expression that he would not suffer
by comparison with the great Bojardo or tim greater Virgil. Let him be
stripped for ever of that hideous garb he wears, and let him be treated,
hereafter, with the dignity his high gifts deserve. Thus shall the day
come when Pesaro will take honour in calling him her son."

Loud and long was the applause that succeeded his words, and when at
last it had died down, the Lord Giovanni proved equal to the occasion,
like the consummate actor that he was.

"I would," said he, "that these high gifts, of which to-night he has
afforded proof, could have been employed upon a worthier subject. I fear
me that since you have heard his epic you will be prone to overestimate
the deed of which it tells the story. I would, too, my friends," he
continued, with a sigh, "that it were still mine to offer him such
encouragement as he deserves. But I am sorely afraid that my days in
Pesaro are numbered, that my sands are all but run--at least, for a
little while. The conqueror is at our gates, and it would be vain to
set against the overwhelming force of his numbers the handful of
valiant knights and brave soldiers that to-day opposed and scattered his
forerunners. It is my intention to withdraw, now that my honour is safe
by what has passed, and that none will dare to say that it was through
fear that I fled. Yet my absence, I trust, may be but brief. I go to
collect the necessary resources, for I have powerful friends in this
Italy whose interests touching the Duca Valentino go hand in hand with
mine, and who will, thus, be the readier to lend me assistance. Once I
have this, I shall return and then--woe to the vanquished!"

The tide of enthusiasm that had been rising as he spoke, now overflowed.
Swords leapt from their scabbards--mere toy weapons were they, meant
more for ornament than offence, yet were they the earnest of the stouter
arms those gentlemen were ready to wield when the time came. He quieted
their clamours with a dignified wave of the hand.

"When that day comes I shall see